this tornado loves you
by hyperphonic
Summary: VI. Because men who fought with dragons were men who lived to see the day. vignette collection/ratings may vary
1. I

**because**: nejiten has been my otp in the literal sense before i could even call myself an adolescent. (and it was damn time i started writing it.)

**notes**: for those unfamiliar with my style of formatting, this will primarily be a collection of vignettes and the occasional one shots. i expect the rating to stay around T, but my writing has an uncanny tendency to get... heated. so we'll see how that goes.

regarding this piece in particular- one of the things that fascinates me most about these two is the ease of their dynamic, and i wanted to catch how quiet and subtle their love is. (and also how neatly it fuses into sparring.)

**additionally**: should you like to see a specific scenario written out, i'm more than happy to take prompts on my tumblr, _hyperphonic._

**disclaimer**: all i own is coffee and a poor sense of humor.

* * *

Tenten thinks it's hilarious that they've found respite in each other. Two ninja, two whispers in the night with the blood of hundreds on their hands- find each other stealing kisses instead of secrets in the dark. And _it's nice_, she thinks, prepping a katana strike over her shoulder. Nice that the very man she spars against now will also be the one to run his fingers down her spine when twilight falls.

The strike falls short, palmed away by a head of chakra and bright eyes. The parry is unconventional, but one she's encountered many times before, so she's partially ready for the blow that follows. "Too slow!" Tenten exults, pulling a volley of shruiken from her sides as she lets momentum carry her into the air. On the ground beneath her, the barest hint of a smile flits across Neji's face before he dodges her attack and vanishes into the trees.

Later that same day, when the pair is bruised and sufficiently exhausted, Tenten turns to face her teammate (_lover, anchor_) in earnest. Calloused hands fall against his cheeks, lips pulling into a smile as fingers move up to pull away at the cloth he uses to hide his fate. "That parry is vicious," his arms reach forwards to pull her into his chest, lips pressing against her hair as she continues, "what if we fused it with a k-"

Her thought process is neatly derailed by the feeling of long fingers slipping under her loose training shirt, the thrum of chakra around her singing of _Byakugan_. (Vaguely, the kunoichi wonders if she'll ever get used to the feeling.) Beneath his gentle touch, what few tenketsu he'd managed to close were opening, chakra proudly blooming from the little bruises.

"Right." Her breath stutters, and the man before her smiles, unbound hair curtaining around them as he presses his branded forehead to her neck. "Right." He confirms, lips brushing against her pulse, and Tenten can hear the joy on his voice.


	2. II

**because**: neji hyuuga is a piece of shit that makes me feel things i didn't ever ask for.

* * *

Hyuuga Neji liked to think himself a fairly reasonable (nearly perfect) teammate. His skills were consistent, dependable and completely lethal; with his kekkei genkai he could benefit his team in ways others could not. While his disposition often clashed with that of the Beautiful Green Beast, that was negated by his perfect give and take with the female component of their team.

Which was another point on which he was clearly superior.

He was not like the loudmouth Uzumaki or that bastard of an Uchiha in his protection of Tenten; she was no bone to be guarded and growled over like a stray dog; she was more than that. She was cold steel and foggy mornings where his white eyes glowed in the flat light- tracking her confident strikes as they sparred. Tenten didn't _need_ his support, but _wanted_ it. (_And he was ever thankful that she wanted it_.)

Though, he thought, the same could be said of Sakura, it was the _men_ on her team who felt the drive to protect.

Regardless, he was better. He was better in that he'd never let her fall if he could help it. _He_ was the one who held her deceptively delicate hand after she'd killed her first man. _He_ was the one who'd zipped up the back of her too-short dress like armor before her first seduction mission. _He_ was the one who could make her tremble and gasp and forget any horrors their latest mission had incurred. He'd always been there to bolster and protect (when it was well and truly called for), and he knew he'd continue to be there- caught by calloused fingers and kisses against his curse seal.

And that, the young Hyuuga knew, made him a teammate far above any other.


	3. III

**because**: writing characters like neji in states of emotional vulnerability is my real live favorite.

**ps: **giselle thought i wouldn't make it to chapter three without posting smut. so hAH LOOKS LIKE I WON, DOESN'T IT?

**pps: **now that chapter three is officially posted, i probably will post smut. just sayin.

**ppps: **got a prompt? feel free to leave a review, or shoot it to my tumblr, _hyperphonic_

* * *

When Neji returns from his first solo ANBU mission Tenten is awake, sitting in their kitchen silently, a cooling mug of tea in her hands. It has been a month since they last saw one another; a month full of bloodshed and missions apart. The small girl hasn't changed at all, long legs drawn up and folded in her chair as she watches him.

He feels like he's insurmountably changed.

Tenten can see this, and rises to her feet, tea and late hour forgotten. As she begins to close the distance between them, "Neji," her voice is soft, and compels him to lean into her embrace as she draws near. Of their own accord his arms move, and mirror hers in twining around her waist. She smells of tea and the oil she uses to cure her blades, and for the first time since leaving the gates, Neji breathes. (_He had killed so many so quickly, and now he felt like his bloodstained hands weren't worthy of touching the woman before him_.)

Blood spattered porcelain is pulled away and Konoha's weapons Mistress delicately holds it behind him, warm eyes shining as she brings her free hand up to cup his face. "It was so violent," he croaks, watching keenly as her brows knit. They are shinobi, born and bred for the battlefield, and bloodshed was no stranger to them. But this, this was a different kind of violence. (_This was subterfuge and almost-genocide and he _knew_ what losing a father did to a child-_) "I know," she breathes back, fingers sliding down to undo his armor. Tenten too bears the mark on her arm, but she operates as an assassin, very rarely assigned to anything as brutal as- Neji blinks at her as his black plating falls away, joining a porcelain mask on the floor by the door. "Tenten," he begins brokenly, but she is already pulling at his bloody shirt, pale hands turning ruddy as the half-coagulated mark of his shame transfers. "Please," he tries again, searching desperately for the will to push her away.

But the simple fact is that he needs her.

Needs her to piece him back together like she's done time and again; needs her to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth as his shirt is thrown into the trash, baring his equally bloody chest. "C'mon," she murmurs, fingers threading into his own as she pulls them towards the stairs. "Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

When he bleeds into consciousness, the first thing Neji notices is the way the sunlight is already waning, late afternoon gold going weak across the sheets. A glance at his hands shows skin scrubbed pink, buffed and clean until no blood hid beneath his nails or ground into the fine lines around his knuckles. In fact, all of him feels fresh, and he swallows thickly as the finer details of the night prior come clear. (_Lips against his cheek, calloused fingers scrubbing his hair as he sat in the shower, leaning heavily on her chest and staring at the tile_.) Tenten, he thinks, is the sun in his sky. And that thought is only proven further when he shuffles into the kitchen to find her sitting just as she had the night before.

"Hey there sleeping beauty," she smiles, rising to pour him a cup of tea. Her efforts though, are hindered by strong arms around her middle and dry lips against the back of her neck. "I love you," he rushes, and his arms twine tighter, earning a sigh from the brunette. "I love that you love me even when I come home covered in blood, and I love that you don't mind washing my hair and my hands and wherever I'm broken and-" She cuts him off by turning around and kissing him, calloused hands sliding into his hair to cradle the base of his skull. She smells like tea and oil again, and, judging by the lack of stained armor on the ground, that is because she's once again pieced him back together; erased the blood and hurt with her sunshine hands.

"I'll love you no matter how bloody you come home, Neji." Her voice is low, serious, and entirely reflected in her eyes.

Instead of responding with clumsy syllables, the dark man leans down to kiss her again.


	4. IV

**because**: let's be real- this would happen to these two.

**holy fuck**: this is rapidly turning into horrible cliches- if you want to avoid chuunin exam!arc stories, i suggest you send in prompts.

* * *

"This is all your fault," the subdued weapons mistress grumbles from the rim of her cup. "If you hadn't snarked off to Tsunande we wouldn't be here right now." A long kunai was driven into the table, tracing lacquered wood grain as Tenten fought the panic in her chest. "_We're_ going to die, we're _going_ to die," Neji raises one eyebrow and takes a sip from his own cup, unimpressed with his teammates antics. "I'm never going to get to crash Sakura's wedding or finish my new katana form, or kiss you in front of those stupid Chuunin girls because we are going to _die_."

Clearly upset, the kunoichi throws back the end of her sake and grants Neji a glare. "Tenten, I'm sure she had us in mind for the mission already." His dry wit certainly hadn't helped with her temper, but there was no doubt in his mind that they'd already been slated to the scroll. "Additionally," one pale hand pulled the decanter away from his lover (she was _not_ going to be anything other than pleasantly buzzed). "It pays well; and it can't possibly be worse than a drunk Lee."

Now it's Tenten's turn to be unimpressed, lips pulling into a grimace as she eyed the decanter. "Neji, did you _see_ the rate of success?" Cocking her head, Tenten reached for the wine again, shoulders rolling to let her top gap slightly. "The last Jounin assigned was almost killed and pulled out." Beneath the table long legs tangled against his own, causing his bound brow to furrow. "We're doubled up because the last three soloists to attempt this mission didn't make it." Her breath smelled faintly of alcohol, and Neji found himself swallowing dryly as the distance between them dwindled.

"We don't stand a chance," she purred, lips brushing his own as they leaned closer, breath mingling before- she snatched the decanter from his limp hand and grinned, flopping back into her seat. "Kakashi stopped by their training ground to help the poor man out of a trap and-" the sunny girl paused to take a swig straight from the decanter. "He said they were even worse than Team Seven."

She watches, eyebrows raised, as the Hyuuga goes pale. "_Fuck_," and he is reaching for the bottle, eyes wide and finally reflecting the fear in Tenten's. "We're _fucked._"

"Glad you agree with me_, Neji-Sensei._"


	5. V

**because**: there's something special about strong summer sun, and mornings where you're too sore to move. (even if you're sore bc you've been out killing people, and not cause you spent all day on a bike.)

**helloooo**: chances are, i'll update more frequently if you shoot me some prompts (or leave me some reviews, though that's neither here nor there), as half the battle for me is coming up with a premise that isn't cliched _or_ overdone. xx

* * *

Morning has always been Neji's favorite time of the day; all wrapped up in restless air and trees slowly glowing under the sun. He supposed it had something to do with watching the world wake up, and how simply that proved that his heart was still beating. After all, how could you appreciate the way the sheets turned gold over tangled legs if you were dead? (Maybe it also had something to do with the way Tenten refused to wear anything other than her bindings and his shirt- who knew?)

On this particular morning though, the Hyuuga was more asleep than alive as he sat heavily at Tenten's little table. On the counter across from him, nestled just where they'd left them among eggs and spices and the mess that came with cleaning, sat two porcelain masks, their clean faces triumphing Tenten's ability to function in the morning. (He wondered how she even managed to clean their masks, remove the trail of bloody clothes they'd left on their way to the bed _and _start breakfast, all before he'd even cracked an eye.)

For his part, he'd slept until nearly noon and then stumbled downstairs in little more than modesty required, kissed the weapons mistress's neck, and collapsed into a chair, sore muscles and colored bruises complaining all the way. (She'd gotten off easier, assigned to long range as per usual; the target hadn't even seen her, save for an unnatural flurry of steel.)

"You know," Neji began, dark brows drawing together at the way his voice came out in an almost-croak. "We _could_ be sick today."

From where he sat melting in the sun, the young Hyuuga had an excellent view when Tenten quarter turned, brown eyes inquisitive. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?" Rolling his eyes, the Jounin nods and focuses on a gash against the wood grain. (She was too bright in the sun; even now after loving her so long). Neji can practically _feel _her smile on him, and briefly, he wonders what weapon wrought the gash he now fingers. (It was probably a kunai or maybe a shruiken as she waited one late night for him or Lee)

He is snapped from his reverie by the familiar sound of a teacup being set upon the wood, "I think I burnt the eggs past edibility again," Tenten is smiling at him sheepishly, "but the tea is still good!"  
Messy brown hair curtains around her face to swing when she turns again; and even though Neji knows the tousled waves to be from mission-long buns and no shower last night, he still thinks she's beautiful.

(_Especially _when she drops a senbon and bends to pick it up, profanity spilling from pink lips.)

A light breeze plays through the open window upstairs, and Neji smiles when he can smell summer on the air (It's better than burned eggs and jasmine tea, at any rate). "But that doesn't matter anyways," his partner grins, senbon already back in her hair as she sits across from him, "because _we're_ sick."


	6. VI

**prompt**: "Tenten being the Dragon Lady"; which, i believe had a far more literal interpretation intended, but sometimes neji gets the better of me.

**notes**: this could be.. potentially hard to follow the first time through, and for that I apologize, but i think if you read it again (and look for symbolism) it'll clear up nicely.

**ayy girl**: writing for prompts is far more fun than writing cliche's i've already read ten different ways- so if you've got ideas, drop them in my ask on tumblr _hyperphonic, _or leave a review, it's all the same to me~

* * *

Neji had always scoffed at his uncle's tales of dragon women and oracle girls. After all, how could a delicate woman ever embody something as vast and powerful as a dragon of lore? It was inconceivable and starry eyed. In his world of black and white and people he needed to prove wrong, there was no time for dragon-girls and stories of triumph in the dark.

That was before he'd met Tenten.

A girl who danced with smoke dragons and demons alike, launching herself high into the air in a maelstrom of steel and scales and _power_ so raw it singed her clothes and fingertips. (_His carefully honed and meticulously controlled moves felt like a breeze next to her tornado of fire and steel_.)

The first time they sparred, Hiashi's stories of golden bright eyes and hoards of metal so vast no shinobi could retrieve it rung in his ears. Those dragons had always been hidden away in caves or abandoned military bases. But _here_ was one wrapped up in skin and bones and tinkling female laughter.

It was fascinating.

As they grew older, and Tenten's arsenal grew ever more expansive, the young Hyuuga began to work; slowly peeling away the steel tipped girl to find his dragon. Layers of hurt, fear and _always_ inferiority were pulled aside until he could look at her, run his fingers over her scales and press his lips against her in kisses so reverent he thought he might die. Tenten, for her part, had no clue why he always kissed her fingers so reverently, or why she'd catch him watching her as she trained, eyes bright as steel and smoke dragons wound around her. (She figured it had something to do with her aptitude for injury, or the tight training pants she'd recently adopted.

It was neither.

He loved her so much, loved her bright joy when he'd kiss her, or the way her eyes went dark if he touched her _right there_; but most of all, he loved the way her dragon would show, growing more and more insistent as their missions threatened more and war loomed on the dark horizon. (_And he realized that his moves were so controlled, so meticulous because if he lost control he'd surely destroy everything to touch his light._)

In the stories, shinobi had ridden their dragons into battle. But Neji.. Neji wanted to stand beside his, stand with their backs to the wind and their eyes focusing past all the violence to the reprise of victory.

Because men who fought with (fought _for_) dragons were men who lived to see the day.


End file.
